Apollyon (Covenant #4)
Page 56Abed? Obviously it was a step up from lying in grass, but confusion pinged at me. I pushed up onto my elbows and winced as an ache rolled through my entire body.
I’d been healed, but…
Memories pieced back together, of Thanatos, Apollo and his son.
Holy crap, I was in—or near—Olympus.
Never in my life did I think I’d breathe the aether-enriched air of the gods, but here I was. A low hum of excitement trilled in my veins. I wanted to race off the bed and investigate. Olympus was rumored to be the most beautiful place in existence, even more so than the Elysian Fields. Creatures of myths roamed freely here, and plants that no longer flourished in the mortal realm grew to staggering heights in Olympus. This was a once-in-a-life…
The excitement gave way to unrest. I wasn’t here for sightseeing. It wasn’t like I was on vacation and Apollo would pop in and give me a tour along with keepsake mouse ears. This wasn’t Disney World, and I was here because Ares…
In the back of my mind, and in the center of my very being, there was a dark and ugly thing that had been born and taken root, a distinct coldness that no amount of warm air could quell. My thoughts swung to Ares and my heart turned heavy. Raw terror formed in the back of my throat, tasting like bile.
But, oh gods, it wasn’t just Ares, or the thought of facing him again. It was the pain that had festered and rotted me, the pain that had shattered me into pieces and caused me to beg for release—for death. Even though I had never spoken the words aloud, I knew that Ares had felt it. It had been in my eyes; my very soul had been laid bare.
Ares knew.
Seth knew.
Shame and something dark rose inside me, twisting and choking like a vile weed.
I’d begged for death.
Me. Alex. The all-powerful Apollyon. The girl who got knocked down only to jump back up and ask for more. I’d been training to be a Sentinel, a warrior bred to disregard fear. I’d known pain before this, both physically and mentally. I’d even come to expect it.
But Ares had broken me wide open.
A raw vulnerability inched through me. Feeling sick, I tugged the soft blanket up to my chest. Gods, I felt… I felt like a poser in my own skin. What would Aiden think if he found out? He would never have begged or given up like I had—oh gods, what if Aiden really wasn’t okay? What if Apollo had lied?
I started to throw the blanket off, but stopped. Indecision smacked into me. What was I doing? Where was I going to go to demand answers? My hand tightened around the blanket until I thought I was going to undo Asclepius’ hard work.
I couldn’t move.
I was frozen by… by what? Fear. Distress. Shame. Confusion. Anxiety. A hundred or so emotions whirled through me like an F-5 tornado. My breath sawed in and out painfully. Pressure blossomed out of nowhere, clamping down on my still-tender chest. This was worse than how I’d felt after Gatlinburg, magnified by a million.
Images of the fight in the dean’s office flipped through my head like a twisted photo album. The maneuvers that always had been too late. The kicks and punches that’d never landed. Being picked up and thrown like I was nothing more than a sack of rice. The breaking of my spine and every bone thereafter and then the knife…
The sound of Aiden and Marcus banging on the doors, desperately trying to get in, haunted me. So many memories of Ares owning my ass kept on coming in a continuous onslaught of how-not-impressive-I-really-was. How could I’ve thought I could stand against Ares—the god of war? How could any of us?
And I’d begged for death.
I couldn’t breathe.
The pressure constricted my chest again and I let go of the blanket, pressing my hand to my clammy skin. I stumbled out of the bed, falling on the chilled granite knees-first, and then I pressed my forehead to it. The cool floor seemed to help, like the night I’d been slipped the Brew.
I don’t know how long I stayed like that—minutes or hours—but the floor had this wonderful grounding ability. A bone-deep exhaustion set in, the kind a warrior felt at the end of the final battle, when he was ready to turn in his sword and fade into eternity.
Somewhere in the room, a door opened, scraping against marble. I didn’t lift my head or try to sit up, and I knew how I looked to whomever was in the room—like a dog cowering in the corner. That was me.
“Lexie?”
My heart stopped.
“Lexie? Oh my gods, baby.”
I was frozen again, too afraid to look and discover that the voice didn’t really belong to my mom, that it was some kind of messed-up illusion. A different kind of pressure fisted in my chest. Fragile hope swelled.
Warm arms surrounded me in a gentle, painfully familiar embrace. Inhaling a ragged breath, I caught her scent—her scent. Vanilla.
Lifting my head, I peered through the strands of hair and lost my breath, along with any ability to form a coherent thought.
“Mom?”
She smiled, sliding her hands up to my cheeks. It was her—the oval face and complexion slightly darker than mine, lips spread in a wide smile and eyes the color of the brightest green. She looked like she had the last time I’d seen her in Miami, the night before the daimon attack that had changed her into an aether-addicted monster, before I had killed her.
That fist squeezed down until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and couldn’t see anything other than her.
“Baby, it’s me, it’s really me.” Her voice was as I remembered—soft and melodious. “I’m here.”
But her hands were warm and her eyes were full of tears. It smelled like her and sounded like her. Even the dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders the way they had before.
Then she came to her knees and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against mine. Her voice was tight with tears. “Do you remember what I said to you that night?”
I struggled to get the words out. “That you loved me?”
“Yes.” Her smile was watery. “I told you that, with or without purpose, you were a very special girl.”
Oh gods…
“And you told me that, as your mother I was obligated to tell you that.” She laughed and it seemed to catch in her throat. “Even I didn’t know how special you truly were.”
It was her—really her.
Clamoring forward, I threw my arms around her, nearly knocking her backward. With a soft laugh, she enveloped me in a strong hug—the hug I’d been missing and needing for so long. Mom gave the best hugs ever.
She squeezed me tight, and I clung to her while she smoothed my hair back with one hand. Tears burned the back of my throat and welled in my eyes. Emotion poured into my chest until it felt like my heart would explode. I’d been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever, and I never wanted to let her go.
“How is this possible?” My voice was hoarse and muffled. “I don’t understand.”
“Apollo thought it would be good for you after what happened.” She pulled back a little. Tears glistened in her eyes, and I hated that. “He called in a favor with Hades.”
Apollo must have a lot of favors at his disposal.
“I’ve missed you so much.” She placed her hand to my cheek and smiled. “And I wish I could’ve been there for you when you lost Caleb and faced the Council. I wish for that more than anything else.”
A red-hot lump filled my throat. “I know. Mom, I’m… I’m so sorry. I—”
“No, baby, don’t you dare apologize for anything that happened to me. None of it was your fault.”
But it was my fault. Sure, I didn’t turn her into a daimon, but we’d left the safety of Deity Island because of what I would become. She sacrificed everything—her life—for me, and I’d still connected to Seth when I had Awakened, spurring horrific, catastrophic events across the globe as the gods retaliated. How was that not my fault?
“Listen to me,” she said, clasping both sides of my face now and forcing my gaze up. “What happened to me in Miami wasn’t your fault, Lexie. And you did the right thing in Gatlinburg. You gave me peace.”
She pressed her lips together, and then took a shaky breath. “You can’t hold on to that kind of guilt. It doesn’t belong to you. And what happened after you Awakened wasn’t something you could control. You broke the connection in the end. That is what matters.”
Her words were so sincere that I was almost convinced, but I didn’t want to spend this time with her talking about all the terrible things that had happened. After everything that had happened, I just wanted her to hold me.
Pushing down the guilt was like taking off a pair of too-tight pants. I could breathe now, but the marks were left behind on my skin. “Are you happy?” I asked, scooting closer.
Mom gathered me close again, resting her chin atop my head, and I closed my eyes, almost able to pretend that we were home and that a heart actually beat under my cheek. “I miss you, and there are other things I miss, but I am happy.” Pausing, she tucked my hair back. “There is peace, Lexie. The kind that erases a lot of the negative stuff and makes it easier to deal.”
I was sort of envious of that kind of peace.
“I watch over you when I can,” she said, pressing a kiss on the crown of my head. “It’s not something they suggest for us to do, but when I can, I check in. You want to tell me about this pure-blood?”
My eyes popped open, and heat flooded my face. “Mom”
She laughed softly. “He cares for you so much, Lexie.”
“I know.” My heart squeezed as I lifted my head. “I love him.”
Her eyes lit up. “You have no idea how happy that makes me to know that you’ve found love among all of this…”
Tragedy, I finished silently. Wrapping my hands around her slim wrists, my gaze fell to the window. Thin branches swayed in the breeze. Bright pink flowers were open, their teardrop-shaped petals moist with dew. I stared at them for an obscenely long time before I spoke.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s right, you know—if I should feel happiness and love when everyone is suffering.”
“But you have suffered, too.” She guided my gaze back to hers. “Everybody, no matter what is happening around them, deserves the kind of love that man feels for you, especially you.”
Flushing again, I wondered just how much Mom had seen. Awkwardville, dead ahead.
“And that kind of love is more important than anything right now, Lexie. It’s going to keep you sane. It’s always going to remind you of who you really are.”
I took a deep breath, but it got caught. “So many people have died, Mom.”
“And people will, baby, and there’ll be nothing you can do it about it.” She pressed her lips to my forehead. “You can’t save everyone. You’re not meant to.”